


and the sun will shine

by leighbot



Series: don't throw it all away (our love) [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Covid-19 Related, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:34:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23253289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leighbot/pseuds/leighbot
Summary: Zayn laughs and rubs at his temples. “I don’t understand where they got all of their energy from today,” he admits. It’s Tuesday, the second day of their self-isolating quarantine, and the boys were as hyper as they’d be on Christmas morning. After shooting sugar directly into their veins. And drinking all of Harry’s Red Bulls.Or, they're practicing self-isolation during the COVID-19 pandemic. Two little boys shouldn't be too hard to entertain, right?
Relationships: Zayn Malik/Harry Styles
Series: don't throw it all away (our love) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/959709
Comments: 23
Kudos: 67
Collections: Lock Down Fest





	and the sun will shine

**Author's Note:**

> This is a coda to 'we can take the darkness' but can be read independently if you happen to find this fic first! Zayn is father to two boys in New York City and Harry is his partner and fiance. This fic covers the first week after NYC schools were ordered closed due to the spread of COVID-19 and does contain several small mentions to anxiety caused by the outbreak and even a scene where they explain what is happening to their six year-old.
> 
> Because of the nature of this pandemic and the changes that have happened since states starting making adjustments to promote public safety, there is mention of one child having a play date with a neighbor. Until stricter restrictions were announced, this was common. In the past few days, however, this has changed.
> 
> I wish I had the perfect words of wisdom to share with anyone reading this but I'm nervous about this pandemic and just putting out good vibes for everyone. This is the first major health concern that I've lived through and I make mistakes every day but I'm finding ways to focus my energy; this fic was one of them! I really hope you enjoy and are safe and healthy wherever you may be!

The sun is just barely past the horizon, the sky outside their bedroom window still too light to see the stars, when Harry falls onto the bed with a heavy _thump_. “I’ve forgotten how exhausting they are,” he admits with a grin.

Zayn shoves him over so he can climb in on his own side, settling against the oversized pillows he’d painstakingly picked out after nearly an hour in the pillow aisle of the At Home store a year ago. He’s never told Harry how long it took him to decide on them. He takes off his glasses and sets them on his nightstand as he settles further into the bed, the sheets cool against his bare legs. He shivers.

“Honestly, I think they’re little monsters.

Zayn laughs and rubs at his temples. “I don’t understand where they got all of their energy from today,” he admits. It’s Tuesday, the second day of their self-isolating quarantine, and the boys were as hyper as they’d be on Christmas morning. After shooting sugar directly into their veins. And drinking all of Harry’s Red Bulls. “I’ve never seen them like that.”

Harry shucks off his jumper but doesn’t get up from the bed to do it, punching Zayn in the shoulder and nearly again in the chin before he throws the offensive item to the ground. Used to the routine, Zayn doesn’t even flinch but reminds himself for the hundredth time to never, ever get into bed with Harry if he’s wearing more than one article of clothing. “Sorry,” Harry says, pressing a kiss to the spot he’d just hit. “I’m so tired.”

Sawyer jumps up onto Zayn’s legs, spinning slowly a few times until he settles into an orange pile of fur between Zayn’s knees. He contemplates pushing the cat down but Jasper is waiting to strike from under the bed, the two cats always crabby with each other near bedtime, so he lets the cat stay.

“And we get to do it all over again tomorrow,” Zayn says wearily. He lets his hand fall from his head, running his fingers along Harry’s arm. “Y’know, I think I’m actually winded from running around after Tar today. Who knew a three year old could run a full marathon? What’s wrong with your boy?”

“Satan,” Harry offers. “Satan knew and he knows all my bad deeds, too.”

“So their behavior is your fault?”

“It’s my karma,” Harry agrees. He rolls onto his side and looks at Zayn. Zayn raises his hand and traces the worry etched deep in the lines around Harry’s eyes. “I’m not scared,” Harry says defensively, as if Zayn’s said something. “I’m the right amount of cautious.”

“I’m a little scared,” Zayn admits. “I don’t know what to do to explain this. How do you explain a pandemic to a toddler and a first grader?”

“We tell them the truth,” Harry says quietly. “As much as they need to know when they start asking questions.”

Zayn nods and leans in to kiss Harry quickly. “You’re going to lose that little gut you’ve gotten by the time they go back to school,” Zayn says, pressing his hand to the soft skin of Harry’s stomach.

“S’not a gut!” Harry whisper shouts. “It’s a dad bod.”

“Sorry,” Zayn teases, stealing one more kiss. “Forgot.”

Harry pats at his stomach, smacking the back of Zayn’s hand where he’s still tracing the lines of Harry’s tattoos. “I worked hard for this gut. Do you know how many bake sales your son’s school has?”

“You don’t have to participate in all of them,” Zayn challenges. “The sixth graders were supposed to make their own but you contracted out and ended up filling half of the tables yourself.”

“Hey, I made enough money to buy that chair you love so much. I’ve never been more thankful that their mum put them in a snobby school like that. Bunch of rich kids buying my cookies and cupcakes.”

“Mmm,” Zayn moans appreciatively. “Your cookies are pretty good, babe.” Zayn rolls away with a laugh, setting the alarm for an ungodly hour in the morning so he can get up and get some work done before the boys are fully awake. “Do you have anything on the schedule tomorrow? It’s Wednesday,” he adds after he’s rolled back and spooned up behind Harry, who has assumed his usual position. Zayn always ends up with a mouthful of hair when he holds Harry like this but it smells clean today so Zayn doesn’t mind.

“No, school’s down for me too and there aren’t any cases I’m on this year. I’m on sabbatical, basically, until this wave passes.”

Zayn yawns, burying the sound in Harry’s shoulder. “You’re on baby duty tomorrow, then, I’ve got two meetings I need to video in for and then I’ve got to finish the project for the new city center garden.”

“What do you,” Harry’s voice cracks around a yawn, “need to build for a garden?”

“I dunno,” Zayn mumbles, eyes closing. His feet hurt like he’s gone hiking. Tar _is_ a monster. He stretches them until he feels the ache relax. “Something garden-like.”

He doesn’t think Harry responds but he’s asleep before he can be sure.

There’s something kind of liberating about having work meetings in a black blazer on top and Iron Man pajama pants on the bottom. He balances his laptop on a stack of Harry’s law books and keeps his folders and work binder spread open on his lap. He doesn’t think it would matter even if anyone knew, since Ned is wearing a holey t-shirt and Griff’s ripped jeans can be seen when he stands to grab a snack from his fridge, but it’s the principle of the thing. Plus, he’s spent a lot of money on his wardrobe so he likes to show it off.

“What do we build for a garden?” Zayn asks, echoing Harry’s question from the night before. He’s pretty cozy in his bedroom where he’s practically barred the door from outside entry but he can still make out the faint sounds of Harry and their boys in the living room.

“Normally, I’d say a sculpture but… that’s not what we do,” Griff shouts from somewhere off-screen. When he comes back, he’s got a blanket over his shoulders.

“Is your heat out, again?” Zayn asks. “Come hang out here, man.”

“Nah, I just usually have the thermostat set low for when I’m not here and I don’t know how to change the damn settings. It warms back up when I’d usually be coming home.”

Zayn and Ned stare at the screen for a minute before they both start laughing, small chuckles at first but soon Zayn is closing his binder and smacking a hand down as he fights to stop the giggles. “You’re a bloody architect and you can’t work yer thermostat?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Griff says with a huge grin. “I’ve got the manual somewhere, I just need to find it now. It’s not a normal one!”

“Your high tech space age house is going to turn on you one day, we’ve all warned you!” Ned says. “Alexa is not your friend.”

Griff shushes them while laughing. “It’ll hear you!”

“Guuuuys, I really need help with this garden thing. What am I supposed to be making? The brief has nothing helpful in it.”

Ned rolls his eyes and Zayn hopes the video freezes the next time he does it; it’ll make a great new profile pic for his Tinder account. Zayn’s hacked into his phone so often he’s pretty sure the only password option Ned has left is Zayn’s own birthday.

“Be helpful!” he chides.

They respond much like his sons do, eyes downcast and pursed mouths.

Finally, Ned proves why he gets paid the biggest of the bucks in Zayn’s office. “Well, it’s a small space since it’s New York, right? What if you make it into a building?”

“A building,” Zayn parrots.

“Like three of four stories where people can climb up and have their own gardens.”

Zayn’s quiet.

“You still there?”

“That’s brilliant,” he says finally.

“Oh, good, we thought the feed had died. You like it, then?”

Zayn nods and looks down to his lap, pulling his pencil out of the spiral and dragging lines across the page.

“Might as well go for a bite to eat, Zayn’s in his creative mood.”

Zayn laughs at Griff’s words and shakes his head, lifting his page. “Something like this?” he asks them. It’s their turn to be quiet but Griff’s widening smile is enough to tell Zayn he’s done something right. “So yes?” he prompts. Jasper comes out from under his hideaway under the bed, knocking aside the child’s chair that has been keeping the door shut. It’s a folding chair so one soft nudge from the gray cat sends it down to the floor but it had been the only thing protecting him from the boys’ intrusions. The _bang_ of it scares Jasper and he runs right back under the bed.

“Yeah, that looks great. Can you scan a copy?”

Zayn thinks about it for a second. “Yeah, let me finish it up and I’ll take a photo with my phone. It’ll be in your inboxes in an hour.”

Just then, there’s a pounding sound of little feet running down the hallway and Zayn’s door is opening before he can think of a way to stop it from happening. He knew he should have replaced the chair.

Tariq’s brown eyes peek in the space between the door and the frame. He smiles and pushes the door open wider when he sees Zayn. “Baba! Come play with us!”

Zayn laughs and shoves aside his notebooks just in time for Tar to pounce, landing right where Zayn’s binder had been a second before. The toddler jumps on the bed for a second before realizing the laptop is open with Griff and Ned snickering.

“Hi!” Tar says. He’s met them both a couple of times but Zayn doesn’t think he remembers who they are – he’s just the most outgoing Malik boy as if he’s pulled that social trait from his dad instead of inheriting Zayn’s more reserved nature.

“Baba’s working, baby. Can you go play with daddy again?”

“No!” Tar pouts, turning and looking at Zayn pleadingly. “Daddy’s got, he’s um, he’s making us do fatchards.”

“Fatchards?” Ned asks, leaning closer to the screen. “Hi Tariq!”

“Hi,” Tar repeats, though he sounds less enthusiastic than he had a minute earlier. “Fatchards are boring.”

“Flashcards,” Zayn tells the laptop crew in explanation. “Harry’s trying his hand at homeschooling.” He laughs at the faces his coworkers make in unison. “Hey, he’ll do great.”

As if summoned by the mention of his name, Harry’s loud footsteps echo in the hall a second later. “Hey, Zayn, I’m missing a baby.” His expression is one of apology when he walks into the room and sees Tar leaning over Zayn’s shoulder and babbling to the boys in his three year old half-speak.

Ned must hear Harry because he says, “Zayn, why don’t you take your time on that sketch and send it over in the morning.”

Zayn feels anxiety clutch at his stomach. “No, guys, I can get it done right now.”

“Zayn,” Ned says again, “enjoy time with your family. This bid isn’t going anywhere.”

“Baba can come play?” Tar asks, a grin taking over his features. “Yes!”

Zayn rolls his eyes and shakes his head but everyone in the room and over the Wi-Fi connection can see the fond smile on his face. “Yes, baba can come play. Go with daddy and I’ll be out in a minute.”

Satisfied that his baby dictator ways are being honoured, Tar hops down off the bed and stumbles into Harry’s knee. “Catch me!” he shouts, running out the bedroom door and down the hall.

“Ugh, they’re getting an extra hour of screen time tonight,” Harry says as he turns to follow. “I’m too tired.”

Zayn snorts. He exhales heavily when Harry shuts the door behind him. “Sorry about that, guys, really. They’re used to going to daycare or school and having time away from us. It’s been tough trying to keep them entertained this week without running ourselves ragged.”

Griff has abandoned the screen again but they can hear him shuffling his feet across his impeccable hardwood floors. Zayn feels a bit sorry for him for a moment – all the space in the world and no one to share it with during their self-isolations. He also thinks there might be better hiding spots in Griff’s house so he could get more work done and not feel guilty for pushing it aside. Pity mixed with some jealousy, then.

“It really isn’t a problem, man,” Ned says quickly. “You’ve got a family and I can only imagine how difficult this is for you guys. If there’s anything you need from me, let me know.”

“Me too!” Griff shouts, his voice muffled like he’s snacking on something again. It takes a lot of fuel to power him, Zayn knows. Griff always has the best snack drawer in the building.

“Trev actually has a playdate tomorrow with a girl next door so tomorrow’s meeting won’t be as hectic.”

“Cancel it!” Griff says as he hops back into the screen. His fist is full of almonds and he crunches one between his teeth. “C’mon Ned, we deserve a break.”

“I’m not the one in charge!” Ned laughs. “We all answer to the same boss.”

“Yeah, but your _dad_ is the boss,” Griff points out, popping two almonds into his mouth at the same time. “So you can, like,” he pauses to swallow, “grease the wheels for us.”

“I’m not sure that’s the phrase,” Ned says with a frown. “How are you both doing?”

Zayn shrugs and watches Griff’s identical reaction. “We’re all fine.”

“Shit’s weird right now, so just… don’t worry about this stuff. Let’s just regroup Monday, yeah? Take the next few days to figure out what’s all going on. And take care of ourselves.”

“Sounds good to me,” Zayn says, looking down at his notepad and making a few adjustments. He’ll have to make a cleaner copy and measure out for a blueprint but the initial sketch looks good. “Hey, what if I add a little playground area where the kids can stay entertained while their parents tend their garden?”

“There’s not a lot of land but-“ Ned begins to answer but Griff cuts him off.

“Z, _stop. working._ Go hang out with that kid before I come swoop him up to quarantine with me.”

“Take him,” Zayn says though he’s joking. He’s joking about ninety percent. Okay, maybe eighty-five. “I’ll have the sketch over to you in the morning, I’m not sitting on this all weekend. Okay, great, bye!” Zayn says, logging out of the chat before they can argue with him about it.

An idea hits him and he tears a few pages out from the back of his notebook. He grabs a few extra pencils from his desk and heads out of the room. Instantly, the tune of his children terrorizing Harry hits him like a wall of sound.

“No more!” they’re chanting and Zayn grimaces when he turns the corner and sees Harry’s red face.

“I think trying to teach as a way of distraction was a bad idea,” Harry says in defeat when he sees Zayn. “I have a newfound respect for teachers. Like, we need to start slipping hundred dollar bills into their hands at parent-teacher conferences. And the janitors, too. You would not believe how many times I’ve had to clean the bathroom this week.”

“No more! No more!”

“Alright, alright, little animals,” Zayn calls to be heard over the sounds of their riot. “I’ve got something I need your help with.”

Instantly, the shouting stops. Partially because they know Zayn won’t let them terrorize him the same way they do their daddy and partially because they’re startled by his entrance.

“Baba, thank _god_ ,” Trev says, running over to hug at Zayn’s thighs. “Save us!”

“I’ve got a project for work and you boys can help if you want. Does that sound fun?”

Knowing nothing about it, they’re still both eager as Zayn leads them into the kitchen and sets them up at the dining table. He gives them each two pieces of paper and a pencil before rooting out their large box of crayons from where it’s stored at the corner of their pantry. He sets them the task of coming up with ideas for jungle gyms and toys he can put outside of the community garden space before he heads back into the sitting room to help Harry decompress.

He finds his fiancé slumped on the sofa, his eyes closed. “I don’t know when I got so old.”

“You’re twenty-six,” Zayn says with a laugh.

“It was probably last week when the governor said schools were closing. That’s probably when,” Harry continues as if Zayn hasn’t spoken. Zayn snorts and tidies the coffee table before pulling the ottoman from the edge of the room and sitting on it to face Harry. “Hello, love,” Harry says, opening his eyes to watch.

“Hiya.”

“Please don’t change your mind about marriage. I can keep up with them, I know I can.”

Zayn can’t stop smiling at the ridiculous picture Harry is painting. He’s the most dramatic man Zayn’s ever met. Like he wouldn’t jump up and run into the kitchen to play Animal Safari or Magicians with the boys right now if they made a single peep about it. “You’re dumb,” he says, leaning in and puckering his lips obnoxiously.

Harry leans forward and smacks a loud kiss against Zayn’s lips. “Thanks for the rescue,” he says, kissing Zayn again a bit more gently.

“Thanks for the distraction attempt.”

“I think I’ll just have them watch Disney tomorrow. We’ve only seen Moana twice this week, we can do another.”

“I don’t need to call in until Monday, actually. There’s no point right now, I guess.”

“So Griff doesn’t want to put on a shirt tomorrow,” Harry deduces. “We should make him babysit one day.”

Zayn rolls his eyes and pulls his legs up so he’s sitting fully on the cushioned top. “I think we should make a blanket fort tomorrow night after the boys go to bed. It’ll be something that can keep them occupied for hours and the telly doesn’t fit there. Our Friday morning could actually be peaceful. And maybe even the afternoon.”

“Bonus,” Harry says. “I should have thought of that, I make the best forts.”

“You just wait and see what I do,” he challenges, raising his chin. “I’ve got you beat, I bet.”

“We’ll see.”

“Daddy, can I ask you a question?”

“You just did but you can ask another one,” Zayn hears Harry answer with a chuckle. His attempt at humour falls flat, though, as Trev casts a worried look in Zayn’s direction. Harry steps out from the kitchen and follows his gaze, his own smile turning down slightly. “Bubba, I’m sorry for making a joke,” he tells Trev. “You can always ask me anything.”

“Bobbi asked her mommy a question and I didn’t understand it.”

Zayn sits up a bit straighter where he’s at on the sofa, a dosing Tar warm and heavy in his lap. Tar shifts with Zayn’s movements and pouts up at him. “Baba, stop,” he commands, closing his eyes again.

“What was the question?” Harry asks, leading Trev into the sitting room. He casts a worried look to Zayn and Zayn nods. Hanna had told them at drop off what question her daughter had asked and they both knew Trev would come to them about it sooner, rather than later.

Trev looks between them, his eyes getting wide. “I’m in trouble?” he asks.

“Of course not, sweet,” Zayn assures him. “Just tell us what happened, okay?”

Trev sits down on the oversized ottoman and Harry sits next to Zayn, letting Tar climb into his lap once he’s settled in.

“Bobbi asked her mommy why there’s so many sick people on the television.”

“Ms. Hanna was watching the news?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, and she turned it off when she saw us watching it, too, but Bobbi said she saw dead people on it so she asked her mom.”

Zayn frowns but Tar speaks before he can begin to form a response. “Bobbi not see dead people,” he mumbles, burying his face in Harry’s shirt. “Bobbi a big liar.”

“Tar, be nice,” Harry chides gently. “Trev, I don’t know what Ms. Hanna was watching but the news we’ve watched haven’t shown that.”

“Bobbi does lie sometimes,” Trev says, kicking his foot against the base of the ottoman. “But there are a lot of sick people right now, aren’t there? And that’s why I don’t go to school anymore.”

Zayn smiles, trying to reassure his son. “Yes, baby. There’s something going around and it’s making people really sick right now so they’ve closed schools so you can stay home and stay healthy. But just for a little while.”

Trev nods, smiling back. “Is it like when I have a stomachache?”

“It’s not quite the same,” Zayn replies, opening his arms. Trev instantly propels himself onto Zayn’s lap. His six year old can sometimes be too much of a ‘big boy’ to cuddle with his baba but today he isn’t and Zayn’s thankful for it. “This is a new kind of sick so more people are getting it right now.”

“Like when everyone got the chicken pox but not me?”

Zayn can’t resist looking at Harry, watching the scowl that crosses his face quickly. He’d been furious when a student in Trev’s class had come in with visible spots and spread a, thankfully, mild case to the students who hadn’t been vaccinated.

“Yeah, baby. This one is called COVID-19.”

“That’s a funny name.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Harry says, smiling when Trev scoots out of Zayn’s lap to sit between the two of them. “It’s just a name that doctors use so they can track the people who have it.”

“Do I have it?” Tar pulls back from Harry to look up at him.

“No, baby, none of us do. But we know a lot of people are getting it so we’re staying home and limiting the people we interact with so that our friends and us all stay healthy.” Zayn can see the way Harry’s hands have tightened, probably subconsciously, around Tar’s body.

“Okay.”

Harry blinks. “Okay,” he parrots. “Do you have any other questions about it?”

Trev shrugs and shakes his head. “No!” he says with a grin. “I’m glad we don’t have it, daddy.”

“I am, too.”

Tar has been watching the conversation, slowly but surely coming out of his nap. “I question,” he says. “Dinner eat now?”

Zayn tries really, really hard to not roll his eyes at his beautifully spoiled little boy. Tar smiles like he’s told a great joke and Zayn stands, picking him up from Harry’s lap. “You are a bottomless pit,” he tells Tar as he puts him on his hip.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a hole in the ground that goes on forever but it’s in your belly,” Zayn says.

Tar pats at his belly. “I do no have hole!”

Zayn tickles his sides as he walks into the pantry. “What should we have for dinner?”

“Dinosaurs!”

Zayn blinks. “Let’s try something else.”

“Mac cheese!”

“Now I can do _that_ ,” Zayn says, letting Tar grab the box of noodles off of the shelf. He picks up a can of evaporated milk and sets Tar down on the counter while he pulls out a pot. Tar loves to watch him cook and has always, always kept his hands to himself so Zayn doesn’t mind his curious gaze.

The day Tar burns himself is the day he’s banned from the kitchen for life.

“That chair is about to fall,” Zayn says a split second before it topples over, hitting the plush sitting room carpet with a soft _thump_. “Told you.”

“Eh, you just mind your business,” Harry says, setting the chair to rights and trying to drape the duvet over it again. “I’m making my fort.”

“Your fort is crumbling. Just let me help.”

“You wanted to watch _Frozen II_ so you just watch your movie, baby. I got this.”

Zayn shrugs and rewinds ‘Into the Unknown’ for the third time. “It’s a good song.”

He’s on his ninth replay when Harry finally sighs audibly.

“Ready for my help?” Zayn asks in what he considers to be a gracious tone.

“Nobody likes a sore winner,” Harry snarks. “Please help?”

“You need to be using bed sheets, not the duvet. The duvet is too heavy.” Zayn hops up from the sofa and heads into the hallway, coming back into the living room with two sets of sheets they keep on hand for their bed. Harry helps him unfold them and follows Zayn’s lead as they drape the king sized sheets over the two dining room chairs they’ve nicked for their fort.

“Could we hang this somehow?” Harry asks him. “Make it hang from the wall?” He flaps the end he’s holding to make the sheet flow. Zayn laughs as it blows his hair back from his face and holds up his hand to block the pseudo wind when Harry does it again. “Oops, sorry.”

“I’ve got a Command hook, hang on,” Zayn says, letting his end of the sheet fall. He heads into the kitchen, finding a package of hooks in the junk drawer and pulling out one. He reads the instructions as if he hasn’t installed a dozen of them around the house now.

When he comes back into the living room, Harry’s stood on top of the dining room chairs, with the middle of one sheet clutched in his hands.

“What are you doing?”

“What took you so long?” Harry returns, beckoning half-impatiently for the hook.

“I was reading the instructions,” Zayn answers, handing it over and pinching Harry’s thigh where his shorts ride up. “Be careful.”

“Baby, I’m fine.”

“Master of balance, you are.”

Harry presses the hook to the ceiling and somehow twists the sheet in his hands until he has a loop knotted in the middle of the sheet.

“That’s cool,” Zayn says, one hand on each of Harry’s calves as if he can help him stay steady.

Harry beams and hooks the loop to the ceiling, letting it fall down straight. Zayn doesn’t move his hands from Harry’s body until he’s back on the ground again. “I didn’t go to war, baby, just up to the ceiling,” Harry teases as Zayn’s hands knead at his sides.

“You could’ve broken your damn neck.” Zayn presses a kiss to Harry’s stubble-lined jaw. “The boys would’ve been impressed with the fort regardless.”

Harry’s expression of mock-offense makes Zayn laugh. “It has to be the _best_ ,” Harry argues.

“No one likes a sore winner.” Throwing Harry’s words back in his face is quite satisfying and, for extra measure, Zayn picks up a pillow from the floor and smacks it against Harry’s face. He’ll help him finish the fort, he will, but a pillow fight is called for first.

The boys _love_ their blanket fort the next morning. They demand to have their breakfast in it after promising to the moon and back that they won’t spill any of their eggs. Though Zayn doesn’t believe them, he hands over their plates and forks.

Harry’s piling his eggs onto toast when Zayn curls up in his chair. “You look stressed,” Harry says, a piece of egg flying from his lips.

Zayn shakes his head and tries a smile. “No, I’m just thinking of activities we can do to keep everyone entertained.”

“You can just put the telly on, no one is going to judge our parenting.”

“I want to fill in for all the learning Trev is missing out on – he’s in first grade, that’s where he gets all the foundation for the next years to build off of. And Tar’s such a social creature, I really have no idea how to substitute for all the interaction he gets at daycare. I wish there were some toddlers in the neighborhood. It’d be good to get him some social interaction before they request we quarantine further.”

“Do you think it’ll come to that?” Harry asks absently.

Zayn can’t bring himself to answer for a long minute and he feels his eyes grow wet.

Harry looks up at his silence and immediately pushes away his plate and pulls Zayn’s chair closer. “I think we should take a breath together.” He waits, looking at Zayn expectantly until Zayn nods and then they inhale deeply together. Harry puffs out his cheeks exaggeratedly before holding up three fingers. Zayn focuses on the fingers, trusting Harry to bring him back to center, and waits until all three are tucked back into Harry’s first before he exhales. “One more?” Harry asks and Zayn nods.

A couple of breaths later and Zayn feels lighter around the middle like the knot that had been twisting there was suddenly cut.

“Better,” he tells Harry, leaning in for a kiss. “Thank you for taking care of us.”

“It’s my job, baby.” Harry answers against his mouth. “You smell nice.”

“It’s probably your soap. I don’t want to run out of mine.”

Harry noses along Zayn’s jaw, their facial hair scratching together and tickling the corner of Zayn’s lip where Harry’s moustache hits.

“Ew, why are you guys always kissing?”

“Because we’re grownups and we’re allowed,” Harry answers on instinct, pressing loud sucking kisses to Zayn’s cheek and lips just to gross out their boy further.

Trev sighs and is scowling when Zayn pulls back with a laugh. “I’m never going to kiss anyone when I’m a grownup,” he says as he crosses the room to deposit his plate in the sink.

“What about me?” Zayn asks and Trev looks conflicted. “You’re not going to kiss me when you’re a grownup?”

“No, probably not,” he decides and flees from the room, surely rushing back to his blanket fort.

Harry gives Zayn a sympathetic look but Zayn waves him off. “It doesn’t even hurt anymore,” he says. “The last straw was him making it through his first full day of school without needing me. He can never hurt me again.”

“Mhm, I’ll remember that,” Harry says, tucking back into his eggs now that Zayn’s inner crises is over. He chews for a minute, face thoughtful. “We’ve only made it a week,” he says.

Zayn stares at him for a minute. “Shit.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say [hi!](http://iamleighbot.tumblr.com/)


End file.
